Yesterday I got a good start on some little jobs in the barn before it got hot. Son called and said he was coming over to shuffle some equipment around to access a combine grain head he was selling, move a planter, and some other stuff. After all that he had set up a little get together with a neighbor who just happens to have a trap range. The 'boys' shot a couple of rounds, we burned some hot dogs, and I showed off with my 22 a bit. With dark coming in fast, the boys wanted to shoot another round so I pulled for them. They were hitting about 50% especially on the birds that didn't go high enough to clear the horizon. When they were finished and well into dusk, I asked if Grandson had 3 shells left. I fudged a bit by taking the mark directly behind the trap house but those targets were DARNED hard to follow regardless. 3 shots was all my shoulder would tolerate but all 3 targets broke. I really wanted to keep shooting but knew I would pay dearly over the next few days.
I handed the gun back to Grandson, cleaned up the table and went home. Don't push a good thing, right.
I handed the gun back to Grandson, cleaned up the table and went home. Don't push a good thing, right.
